##Author's Note## Thanks for the heads up about the formatting. Not sure what happened. Fanfic.net keeps messing up my paragraphs. Why? Anybody know?? So, let's see if this one works!!



Miranda sighed unhappily and paced the room's length. Since Aragorn and Faramir had left almost a fortnight ago, she had scarcely left the room. Everyone else had important things to do, and though she tried to read, it was very frustrating. It did not help that the only novels around were military histories.

This morning, Eowyn was in meetings with her advisors. The Hobbits were traveling around the city talking with people, giving speeches and, Miranda suspected, drinking and eating quite a bit. Even Legolas and Gimli had left three days ago to hunt, leaving her completely alone.



The intense sun which had shone unceasingly for weeks, was fading behind clouds. It was her favorite weather. The wind picked up and became wild, while the clouds rolled menacingly above. Unable to contain her restlessness, Miranda called to Maggie and slipped out of the keep. The gates to the city were open and people rushed in and out in thick streams. Merging into one group, Miranda found herself swept along, and suddenly outside the city.

**Trees! I''ve missed trees,** she thought. **God, even in London there are parks!** Maggie happily scampered off toward the forest, while Miranda followed at a more leisurely pace. As she entered the cool forest, her mind drifted to Legolas. He had been acting strangely in the past two weeks. Though she often felt his eyes on her, he seemed to avoid talking to her. In any case, he and Gimli seemed joined at the hip.

As she walked, she never forgot to keep the gates within sight. She was within earshot of the guards and felt quite safe. It was, therefore, a rather nasty surprise when something clamped over her mouth and an acrid stench filled her nose.

"Lookit here," said a nasally, heavily accented voice near her ear. A great, grey face suddenly peered into hers and her eyes widened in fright. It was an Orc, like the ones from before. But these were thin and sickly looking. Their tough skin hung in wrinkles from their bones, their eyes sunk into their ugly skulls.

"A nice snack. She did promise us lots of manflesh," said the grey one. Miranda shrank away from his grasping fingers. He was licking his lips hungrily and baring his teeth. Then he grabbed her upper arm and squeezed viciously. "The mother has provided. And it''s a plump and juicy one!" That was the last straw. She sank her teeth into the Orc's hand and it let go of her mouth with a yelp.

"Bloody buggers," she yelled. "Calling me fat, you ugly, arse-faced--" A glimpse of green leather caught her eye. Legolas and the hunting party. He was closing in stealthily, his bow drawn. Using every trick learned from countless hours of watching police dramas on television and one pathetic self-defense class, Miranda pulled her head forward, then slammed it back as hard as she could. A sickening crunch and yell from her captor told her she'd broken his nose.

Where was Legolas? The other Orc was closing in, reaching for her. Forcing her weight to fall back on his instep, she pushed backwards on his arm and slid down, slipping out from his grasp. The grey Orc roared in anger and grabbed at her, his claws scraping down her back, tearing her tunic and skin.

**Where is he?** she thought. Trying not to vomit with fear, she ran toward the keep, but felt thick hands grab her throat and start to twist. Again she broke away, gasping in fear and shock. Suddenly, Miranda heard the whistle of Legolas''s arrows and did not need to look to see that the Orcs were dead. She turned to thank him, late though he was, but before she could speak,

"What were you doing outside the keep?" he blazed at her. "You might have been killed. Had your dog not alerted us, we would not have been in time--"

"Hey! I got out ok. I got away from them and I would have-"

"You would have died when they caught you before you were five feet away!" Legolas was shouting now. The surprise of seeing such emotion on his usually impassive face was too much on top of her harrowing experience. Miranda's heart was still beating too fast. She had been so frightened and now lashed out at the closest person.

"Yeah? Right, then. Well, at least I got away. If I'd waited until you finally got there, I'd be dead. Could you have been any slower?" Shoving at him, she turned and stalked off toward the keep.

Watching her, Legolas felt blood surging in his ears, and he realized his hands were clenched into fists at his side. He wanted to swear, except he did not know how. He wanted to punch or hit something. He wanted to strangle Miranda for her ability to cause these feelings. Breathing deeply, he slowly smiled. He felt vibrant and alive. Gimli and the humans were shocked to see an Elf grin, then kick a lifeless Orc.

*************

**Stupid git. Who does he bloody well think he is? My savior, my foot. God, I hate this place. I hate being scared all the time. I hate being so bloody weak.** As Miranda stormed into the keep, she ran into Eowyn in the hallway. Miranda turned her head into the shadow to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

"My lady!" Eowyn's face revealed the damage that Miranda could not see herself.

"Uh, little run-in with some Orcs. I'm fine," Miranda said, shrugging evasively. She could feel the cool touch of Eowyn's hand on her shoulder.

"You are not, Miranda. Come with me." Taking Miranda's arm in a surprisingly strong grip, she led the other woman into a small, bright room. Miranda sat on the high stool and held still as Eowyn carefully cut the tunic away from her back. She swallowed heavily as she saw the bloody bits of clothe falling to the floor. Blood did not bother her. Her own blood, however. . .

"Why did you leave the keep unescorted?" Eowyn seemed intent on her task of washing out the wounds.

"I-I was bored." Miranda winced at the stupidity of that answer. "More than bored, really. It's just..."

"You have nothing to do and no one to talk to? You feel restless and uneasy?" Miranda blinked at Eowyn.

**You can't read my mind, can you?** she thought, nervously. Eowyn was mashing something green with a pestle and mortar, though, and did not look up.

"Yes. That's exactly it. Everyone else is out doing something noble and worthy, and I'm here sitting around, looking pretty. I - I'm just not used to being superfluous, I suppose. And I feel silly. I can't even defend myself for a walk. And then Legolas was-well, rude to me," Miranda broke of lamely, embarrassed. Eowyn glanced up quickly, then returned her attention to the poultice she made, smiling slightly.

"I remember that useless feeling well. Sitting by the window, watching the empty fields, waiting for something to happen. Wishing I could fight, rather than wait and hope." She looked at Miranda from underneath her lashes. "Why do you not do what I did?"

"What's that?"

"Learn to fight." Eowyn pressed the poultice onto Miranda's back, sending waves of stinging pain through her. Miranda gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, but did not call out. "You have courage, my friend. Ask someone to teach you to fight.....Legolas, perhaps?"

Miranda thought about Legolas, imagined him wrapping his arms around her to demonstrate a move, and felt her face go red.

**Hmm, not a bad idea, that.**

"So...I guess I could go talk to him. I was a little....unfriendly before."

". . ."

************

Miranda was surprised to find Legolas only too willing to help her learn the ways of the sword. As the days grew shorter and the chill winds began blowing, Miranda found herself in the armory courtyard, worked mercilessly by a cruel, but very hot master.

"Again." Legolas seemed as calm and unruffled as ever.

**Bastard,** Miranda thought, as she rolled over and heaved herself to her feet. She was sweaty and dirty from being knocked down again and again. Legolas waited until she had picked up her sword and then swung at her. Her biceps screamed and her deltoids threatened to strike, but she swung upwards and met his thrust with a clang. He reversed his swing and she ripped her own weapon around to parry his, ignoring the pain. Another clang ran out. She had blocked! For the first time, she had blocked.

"You are improving. Slowly, but nonetheless. Rest now for a while." He turned and left the courtyard, preventing her from seeing the smile on his face as she cursed in his wake.

"'You're improving. Slowly,'" Miranda mimicked, then groaned. In three months she had had more exercise than in her previous 28 years. Every muscle ached. But she was learning. Eowyn drilled her through moves in the afternoon that Legolas had taught in the morning. The Hobbits had come for a while, but they were afraid of being forced to practice as well, and hid behind curtains, giggling together as Miranda yelled strange, obviously unflattering words at Legolas's back.

In spite of her pain, she was enjoying herself. Being with him was fun and so easy. She never found herself wracking her mind for conversation, nor chattering idly. Sometimes, when they were alone, he would share stories of his own training, stories wherein he met with the flat end of a sword over and over.

The muted sound of hoofbeats on dirt called her out of her thoughts. Looking up she saw Legolas motioning her out of the courtyard.

"You have worked well and without complaint. Today, we will do something different. This is Arod." Miranda's eyes widened in admiration as the stallion bounded up the them. His head was held high and his eyes rolled from side to side in excitement, huffing breath in bursts from his nostrils.

Miranda held out her hand and he deigned to give it a quick sniff, then turned his large head to Legolas and nudged him hard in the chest. Legolas laughed and caressed Arod's cheek fondly. He leaned close and whispered something in Elvish and Arod stood very still, his flanks quivering. Looking at Miranda, Legolas patted the horse's back and raised an eyebrow.

`Here goes nothing!` Placing her knee in Legolas's cupped hands, she found herself straddling the horse in the blink of an eye. Taking the reins, she reseated herself more comfortably, surprised at the softness of the saddle. The stirrups were longer than she was used to and she shortened them, easily shifting her weight back and forth. It felt like being home again. She clucked softly and off they flew.



The ride was smooth, even over the cobblestone of the road and Miranda closed her eyes as the wind whipped fast. Nearly two thousand pounds of flesh and solid muscles trembled between her thighs and she held power over it. The feeling thrilled her. Giving Arod his head, Miranda leaned close over his shoulder and marveled at the euphoria that swept over her.

Watching them return to him, Legolas wondered at the secretive smile on her lips and the ease with which she sat the horse. Was she part-Rohan in some distant way? Arod came galloping up and shuddered to a halt, panting and pawing the ground. His joy in being able to run free was apparent to Legolas.

"You sit remarkably well," Legolas said, holding up his arms to help her down. She wheeled the horse around, but continued to grin down at him. Atop Arod, she felt powerful, in control.

"My grandparents bred Arabians. Whiny, fussy lot, but elegant. I rode before I walked." Arod reared suddenly, but Miranda held her seat.

"Any one may stay astride an animal when a saddle holds them on. Could you do that when riding Elven-fashion?" Te familiar arrogance had returned to his voice and Miranda narrowed her eyes.

"Not a problem," she said, swinging down. He removed the saddle and helped her mount again. As she nudged Arod into a trot, then into a run, Legolas blinked in surprise. Though her seat was rough and loud by Elven standards, he hadn't expected Miranda, to sit so well. As he watched, she called to him and motioned. He looked to where she pointed and saw a wall, nearly waist high, of stone. He shook his head in alarm and called out to stop her, but she ignored him. Feeling a sense of unfamiliar panic he ran toward them as she and Arod raced toward the wall. At the last second, Arod jumped, and barely cleared the wall; Miranda bounced around on his back, but did not fall off. She slid off, and turned to grin at Legolas. Her grin faded as she saw the cold fury in his face.

"That was a foolish, arrogant thing to do," he siad, his voice low and controlled.

"Why? I've jumped a horse before. Not that big a deal," she said, her voice turning cold to amtch his. Why was he yelling at her for no reason.

"You mght have been killed! You have much to learn, and yet you run into things without thinking. What if you had hurt Arod?" This last bit was flung out in desperation. He had a feeling she was not getting his point.

"For Chris sakes!" Miranda exhaled. "I'm sick to death of your bitching and your condescending attitude! I'm not a child, Legolas. I don't need to be treated like an irresponsible teenager. And I don't need some full of himself Elf to tell me what to do and judge me!" Biting back even more angry words, she turned on her heel and strode back toward the keep, furiously blinking back tears. She wasn't sure what had just happened. He had made her so defensive and she did not understand why.

**Forget it,** she told herself. **A nice, hot bath and rest will make you feel much better.**



*********


Sitting in the bath, Miranda eyed the ugly purple bruise on her upper left thigh. A trail of long bruises, roughly an inch wide, trailed down her right side, while the left had odd, round-shaped ones. She stood, when the water grew cool, and wrapped herself in the thin towel provided. As she sat on the bed, she was overcome with homesickness. She was tired of never knowing what was going on. She was sick of being scared or bored. She missed television and a comfortable bed. Where was the Vodka and techno music?

Though she had come to love Sam and Frodo dearly, she wished Rachael were there to discuss every aspect of Legolas from his ambivalent attitude to his blue eyes to his....well, Rachael would discuss that, anyway. She missed familiarity. Tears formed slowly, then unleashed in a torrent of sobbing. Her crying wasn't delicate or mournful. It was hard and vicious. Her face grew hot and red; her nose ran and she gulped in air, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. Eventually, it subsided to sniffles and hiccups. She felt marginally better.

As she reached for her ubiquitous tunic, a bit of leather caught her eye. Her rucksack. She wasn't going to be leaving the room for the evening. Couldn''t she wear normal clothes....just this once? Crossing the room quickly, glancing furtively out the window, she pulled out the clothing originally intended for the drive home from Scotland. Her oldest, softest jeans with rips in the knees and under one ass-cheek were on top. She pulled them out with a smile. Out of the pocket stuck a pair of plain black cotton pants. She pulled them on with glee.

Never, no matter how long she lived, would she ever grow used to going around without knickers! Though it wasn't cold enough for the heavy lambswool sweater, she could still wear the plain black tank, again of old, washed out cotton. Crossing over to the mirror, she eyed herself critically.

**I'll never be tall. And I'll never be thin. But bloody hell! Would you look at that arse!** She grinned at herself, twisting this way and that. A little bit of familiarity. If only she could go out dancing. Or turn Lenny Kravitz up on the stereo as loud as it would go, singing and dancing her heart out. Music! Of course! Stuffed at the bottom of the rucksack was her discman.

**The batteries are probably long dead or fried from the trip here,** she told herself as she placed the headphones over her ears. She placed play and was overjoyed to hear the soft whirring as it sprang to life. Santana's sultry chords made her smile devilishly. Before she knew it, her hips were moving to the beat and she sang along softly to herself, dancing around the room.

Alone, she lost all inhibitions and let loose her frustrations through the dance, her eyes closed tightly, the music loud in her ears. Loud enough that she didn''t hear the knocking. Or the door opening. Or someone coming in. Getting into it deep and seductive, the moves she would never use in public, Miranda writhed in a circle, smiling to herself. Slowly her eyes drifted open.

**Oh boy.**


********
Legolas stood at the wall, and looked out over the field. He replayed the scene with Miranda over and over again in his mind. Why had he spoken so harshly? Why did she affect him like this? Though he hadn't understand half her words, he knew they stemmed from hurt and anger, rather than truth of feeling. He shook his head. He should apologize. She was most likely still in her chamber. He would go and apologize and then this uncomfortable feeling would diminish.

Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached her door and knocked. And knocked again. He could hear scuffling noises, though, on the other side. Perhaps she was in trouble and needed his help. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. Opening the door stealthily, he crept into the room... and stopped dead in his tracks.

Her eyes were closed and her arms above her head. Her head was thrown back as though in some sort of trance, but her hips moved in suggestive circles, turning her entire body in widening curves. He had never seen such blatantly sexual movement in his entire life. For the first time, all conscious thought disappeared from his mind and his mouth turned bone-dry. She crossed her forearms behind her head and lifted her heavy hair off her neck, rubbing her cheek sensually against her arm.

As she turned, the strange black garment she wore parted from the odd breeches and revealed a narrow expanse of pale skin. Thought returned to his head in a jumble and he suddenly wanted to do things he''d never thought of before. As though pulled by an unseen force, he began to move towards her and lifted his hand to touch her when her eyes drifted open. Sleepy green eyes met wide blue ones and for a moment, she smiled invitingly and he moved toward her.

********
**You are so insanely beautiful,** Miranda thought, entranced. She stood completely still, as he moved toward her. She couldn't have moved, had she even wanted. He seemed to be glowing. Later, she would dismiss it as her imagination, leftover tears blurring her vision. But just then, he was magical, ethereal, and yet... solid.



As he moved closer, she tilted her head, mesmerized by his eyes. His gaze was so intense, he looked almost angry, yet it made her stomach turn buttery and drop down between her legs. Reaching out, he trailed his fingers lightly up her arm to her throat. His fingers were cool, but left behind a line of fire.

**He's going to kiss me,** she thought dimly. And then he did, and all thought fled.

******

Legolas stiffened in surprise. When his lips had touched hers, he'd felt a shock run through his entire body. As he deepened the kiss, it felt as though he were suddenly coming alive. He could feel every tiny inch of his body that touched hers as though it were burning. But she hadn't moved. Fearful he'd imagined her looks he started to back away, and stopped abruptly when her hands grasped his tunic, her fingers grazing his collarbone.

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered with a smile. She backed up a few feet, pulling him along, until her back hit the wall. Then, to his surprise, she kissed him. He stopped thinking and simply felt. Her heat enveloped him and it was glorious, like holding a living flame. Her arms went around him and held him close, even as he pressed closer, wanting to devour.

********

As the kiss lightened, Miranda drifted back to herself slowly. She could feel his hands running over her skin, and would have happily died. Dreamily, her mind began to work again, as his mouth slipped down to behind her jaw.

Sex with angels. That is what it would be like. Elves were too ethereal, too pure and timeless to engage in such a base, animalistic act like sex. At the same time, they were of the earth, created of its soil and their blood ran hot. Perhaps that was their allure, their siren song-- a touch of the forbidden, the fantasy.

He trailed kisses up her temple and pressed his forehead against hers. Lazily, she opened her eyes.

"Miranda," he said, his breath coming heavily. "For so long, I have wanted to tell you--"

"Oi, Miranda? Are ye in there?" Pippin's voice fell over them like icy water and they sprang apart in surprise as he and Merry came bursting through the door. "We've got a problem that ye hafta solve or--" Pippin broke off as he sensed the tension in the room. He and Merry looked suspiciously from Miranda's flushed face to Legolas and paused in astonishment. The Elf's normally pristine hair was mussed and his normally serene face was livid. Turning slowly, he glared at the Hobbits. Gulping nervously, Merry began to back up, pulling Pippin.

"Ermm, I think we--uh, Oh dear, there's Sam. We'd best run along," he said hastily, closing the heavy door. As the door swung shut, however, trumpets split the air.

"Aragorn," said Legolas, looking out the window. "He has returned." Running a hand through his hair, he stalked out the door. The few who caught a glimpse stopped in their tracks, amazed to see the slightly unsteady gait as he moved down the passageway.

Miranda remained where she'd been, staring at the now closed door in shock. Shaking her head, she grinned dazedly and thought,

'Well, fuck me,' she said aloud to the empty room.